


Rot

by Fierygirl0 (orphan_account)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Poison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fierygirl0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It's all over. It's done, we can go home.' That was the idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rot

_It's all over. It's done, we can go home._

That was the idea. It had been a long battle, and the memories of those we'd lost would always be with us, but at last it was over. Three years of war and blood, smoke and pain, finally ended with a battle between two titans. Aizen and Ichigo, both so far above the rest of us that we couldn't even get near the two of them and we spent more time dodging stray energy blasts and kidou then fighting each other. They leveled Las Noches, fighting for almost three hours straight, so evenly matched that neither of them had the ability to simply kill the other. It was a slow, grinding battle that we all watched in anticipation and, in most cases, fear. They sliced at each other, dodging and turning, so powerful and so graceful it seemed like some kind of ritualistic dance. They shook off attacks that would have killed any one of us, threw out blows so powerful that just the shockwaves had enough force to stagger us, even with the distance we'd all backed off to.

I quickly decided, and announced to the rest of the combatants around me, that we mine as well just sit and wait for them to finish. The shinigami, vizards, and even the espada – what was left of them anyway – seemed to agree that there was no point in fighting each other. We all knew that this battle, this fight between our hero and their leader, would decide who won the war.

So we sat, segregated into our factions, and watched. And even the most joking of our number, myself included, were silent and tense. I worried, and I'm sure some of the other shinigami worried with me, that Ichigo might not pull through this one. He was so used to fighting to win, but he'd never really fought to kill before. And there was no doubt in any of our minds that this was a fight to the death. There would be no surrender, no prisoner, there would only be blood and a fatal strike of sword through skin. One would die, and one would live. The worry remained that Ichigo would be the one to fall. Aizen had so many advantages on him that it was hard to believe that Ichigo could pull through on pure determination like he had before, that he wouldn't go down under Aizen's superior intellect, experience, and cunning.

When we felt the power flare of a release into bankai, first Ichigo and then Aizen, another worry surfaced. There was still the unknown factor of Aizen's bankai, and it was probably devastating if it was anything like his shikai. And Aizen, unlike the rest of well, everyone, didn't seem to have that fatal flaw where he felt the need to explain his powers to whoever he was fighting. Another advantage, another reason why Ichigo should be the one to die instead of the ex-captain. A glance at Yoruichi told me I wasn't the only one who thought that.

There was only one terrifying moment, when Ichigo's reiatsu flared in panic and pain, sending out a wave of power that knocked the breath out of all of us. There was no way to know what had happened, we were too far away and none of us could get close enough to see. All I could do was sit and wait, my throat locked tight for the few long seconds before his reiatsu lowered again, telling us all that it wasn't over yet, he was still standing.

When the end finally arrived, it was sudden. A spike of power from Aizen, whipping across the sands and driving the particles at us in a haze, and then it plummeted. I ran, Yoruichi a single step ahead of me, skidding across sand and rubble towards the slowly lowering power of Ichigo. Aizen's reiatsu slipped into nothingness seconds before we came within sight of the pair. They were in a wide crater, the very center of it, and Ichigo was standing over Aizen. Bloody, clearly exhausted, but alive.

It was supposed to be our moment of triumph. Then, Ichigo had staggered, his left hand rising to press against his right side. Zangetsu dropped from his hand, and barely a moment later he'd crumpled to the ground. I'd been the first one to reach him, dropping to my knees, fear overriding all other thoughts. The teenager was visibly shaking, eyelids flickering, breathing in shallow gasps for air.

"Ichigo!" His eyes snapped open, pupils tiny against the brown of his irises, pain clear in the set of his brow and jaw.

"Hurts..." It couldn't be his injuries, there was no way. He'd taken so much damage before, and none of the wounds I could see were serious enough to even need immediate treatment, let alone do this to him. "Urahara, I…" He cut off with a sharp cry of pain, his hand tightening where it was still clenched over his side.

Of course, the fear was stopping me from thinking clearly. I reached for him, wrapping my hand around his wrist and tugging. It didn't so much as budge, of course. I could never hope to manhandle Ichigo, he was too strong for that. "Ichigo, I need you to let go." He shuddered, eyes clenching shut, and roughly yanked his hand away from his side, taking a handful of my robes instead. His knuckles were white, his chest heaving, and I winced before turning my eyes down to his side.

His clothes were mostly gone, torn to shreds by the fight, so the cause of his pain was easy to spot. A small puncture wound low on his side, thin lines of black already tracing out from it and into the surrounding skin. I hadn't acknowledged it, but somewhere in my mind I knew that this was Aizen's way of insuring that even if Ichigo emerged victorious, it wouldn't last. And Aizen had never been the type to leave things like this to chance, he was thorough, that much I would give him.

I reached out, trailing my fingers across it, and Ichigo jerked under my touch, a moan of pain sliding from between clenched teeth. Yoruichi was yelling questions at my back, desperation in her tone, but I ignored it. No poison I could immediately think of did anything like this, and I'd seen many in my days as a second division member. So this had to be an invention of Aizen's. That meant I was dealing with something totally new, which made things infinitely more complicated. Was there any antidote? If there was, could I figure it out in time? How much time did I even have? Minutes, hours, days?

I silenced Yoruichi with a sweep of my hand before gathering Ichigo into my arms and struggling to ignore the cry of pain and the way he arched and shook in my hold. "We need to get him back to Karakura, now."

* * *

The hero of Soul Society is dying, and there's nothing I can do.

My four days of work have only let me identify what the poison is doing, but I still have absolutely no clue how to stop it. Aizen had an antidote, Szayel had told us that, but the only sample was destroyed by Mayuri along with all of Szayel's labs, and he didn't know what the antidote was or even what the poison is. And neither did anyone else. No help will come from Aizen, obviously, so that just leaves me, and I don't have anything.

He's dying. The thought's sobering, almost unbelievable. Ichigo has always stood right back up from anything done to him, rising to fight again regardless of how badly he's been beaten. But not this time. This time he's lying on a cot, twitching and shuddering and too weak to sit let alone stand and fight. The poison is one of the nastiest I've ever seen, and obviously designed with Ichigo in mind. His reiatsu is trying to fight, to drive the poison out or at least eliminate it, but it passes right through whatever this poison has been crafted from. The poison is using his own reiatsu to tear him apart, turning all of that formidable strength back on its owner. Without Orihime – dead by Aizen's hand months ago – or the antidote – soaked into the sands of Las Noches somewhere – all I can do, all anyone can do, is sit and watch as it slowly kills him.

That's where I am now, kneeling by his left side and watching as he trembles and moans in pain, so out of it he may as well be unconscious. He looks terrible, dark crescents under his eyes and his hair plastered by sweat to his forehead. But at least he's still breathing. I know what I'll see if I pull down the blanket covering everything below his neck. The black tendrils have spread over his entire right side and shoulder, just starting to move towards his throat, and down across his hip and right thigh. They're just inches from his heart, and I know when they reach it, he'll die within a few hours. The skin around the wound itself is covered in mottled bruises, the only visible effect of what it's doing to him. I know if I could see beneath his skin I'd be able to fully catalogue what kind of damage it's doing, but for once I'm glad I won't know the answer to that question. Better not to know, better to say it's painful and leave it at that.

I sink down, resting my head on the cot next to his hip, exhaustion getting the better of me. I haven't slept since the battle, too busy trying everything I could think of in my lab. But now that I've run through all the options, and none of them have yielded even a clue, there's nothing keeping me awake. No adrenaline or stubborn belief that if I just stay awake one more hour I'll figure it out.

My eyes close, and in seconds I fade into sleep.

* * *

I wake to a hand resting in my hair, and it takes me a moment to remember where I fell asleep. I hear steady breathing, but nothing else, and my eyes snap open. I jerk my head up, consumed by the overwhelming fear that Ichigo has died while I slept, only for my gaze to be met by soft brown eyes. His hand slides off my head, lowering back to the blanket, and I start to push myself up.

"Kurosaki-kun, you're awake?"

He gives a strained smile, his head tilted sideways against the cot. "Yeah." His voice is rough, hoarse, and I wince. "Your hat's gone."

I blink, surprised, and automatically reach up to confirm that yes, my hat is gone. "I left it somewhere, I guess." For the life of me, I can't remember where it is. Probably in my lab, but it's equally possible it got dropped in my room or the kitchen or even in Las Noches. "Are you feeling better?"

His head shifts in what might be a nod, eyes closing for a brief moment. "Still hurts, but it's a little easier now. Sleep helped." I reach forwards, twitching the blanket down from his right side, and wince again. It's spread a little closer to his heart, and the tendrils have started up his neck. The bruising covers nearly his entire side, like someone hit him with a truck or something similar. He groans and shudders as I pull it back up. "No good news, right?"

I hesitate before sighing, gently stroking my hand over his forehead before withdrawing it. "No. I don't have anything, and only Aizen knew what the antidote was. There's nothing I can do." The words lock my throat tight and I bow my head, my right hand clenching a handful of my robes.

Ichigo's left hand rises from the blanket, layering over mine. "It's alright." I look back up at him, and there's a look of acceptance painted over his features. "How long?"

"A day, maybe?"

His hand tightens momentarily on mine and he nods. "Not surprised. Aizen's always had backup plans. We knew that." He laughs, rusty and almost immediately silenced with a grimace and shaky exhale. "Couldn't, let me win, right?"

I should never have let him go up against Aizen. Ichigo is honest, kind, and honorable almost to a fault, but Aizen had none of those traits and it showed. This poison wasn't intended to cripple the teenager in battle, or even to kill him before he'd triumphed, its only purpose was to give him a slow, painful, death on the chance that Ichigo survived and won their fight. It's a final blow against all of Soul Society, a statement that while they might have defeated Aizen when it came down to it, the traitor was going to make damn sure they paid for their victory.

"No, I guess not."

He looks at me, brown eyes strangely piercing, and then lowers them to rest on the ground close to my knees. "Urahara, can I ask a favor?"

I give a tiny smirk, forcing my voice to be light and cheerful, and not the sad wreck it wants to be. "Of course, Kurosaki-kun. Name it."

He gives a pained smile in return, his brow furrowed and an exhale slipping from him that sounds tired but relieved. He doesn't look at me, but his hand tightens over mine. "Keep my sisters away till this is over. They deserve to remember me like I was, not like this." I wince, but nod. As much as I don't relish the idea of trying to keep the other Kurosaki family members out, I understand Ichigo's point. His sister's last memories of him shouldn't be while he's in pain and dying. "And, could you bring my dad here? There's something I need to tell him."

I bow my head, letting my eyes slip shut for a moment. "Of course." I stand, brushing down my robes, and give a soft smile. "Stay awake till I get back, hm?"

A tiny grin curves his mouth, brown eyes lightening slightly with amusement. "Do my best."

* * *

He doesn't make it. By the time I get there, Isshin in tow, he's unconscious again. He's breathing, thankfully, but it's shallow and slow. Isshin kneels next to him, pain in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders, and speaks softly.

"Will he wake up again?"

I step forward, once again longing for the shelter of my hat, and sigh. "It's hard to say, but probably not. I'm surprised he was conscious at all, honestly."

"I guess I'll never know what he wanted to say, will I?" His tone is heavy with grief, and it takes everything I have not to retreat from the room and hide till all of this is done. "There's nothing you can do?"

I shake my head and then, remembering that I'm standing at his back, answer. "No. I don't know how to stop whatever this is, and the only solution I thought of, he wouldn't survive." Isshin turns his head to look back at me questioningly. "His reiatsu is what the poison's using, and we could destroy it, but in the state it's in his body wouldn't survive the expulsion, or even his injuries. His power is simultaneously killing him, and keeping him alive. A normal soul, or even a shinigami of lesser power, would have long since died to those injuries."

Isshin gives a small laugh, returning his gaze to his son. "He has always been abnormally powerful. That's something he got from me."

A soft knock on the doorframe turns us both to look at the newcomer, and Ishida steps fully into view, dressed down in a black turtleneck sweater and black pants. "You can cross at least one worry off your list, Urahara-san, Kurosaki-san." He nods his head towards me, face carefully shielded. "I stepped in when you left, and Kurosaki told me what he wanted to say, as a precaution."

Isshin stands, turning to face the young quincy. "And?"

"Kurosaki demanded that you," he makes a small gesture at Isshin, "not blame Urahara-san for this." I startle, and I see similar surprise in Isshin. "He said you'd undoubtedly start to blame Urahara-san for not being able to stop the poison, or for even allowing him to fight Aizen in the first place, and he wanted to make sure you didn't. He was the only one who could have faced Aizen and even had a chance of winning, and no one could have helped due to the power they were putting off. It isn't anyone's fault but his own and Aizen's, and you shouldn't think badly of Urahara-san, or anyone else, for not being able to help."

There's a stunned silence, and I finally break it with a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Self sacrificing to the end. I guess some things never change."

* * *

He never does wake, but at least he dies peacefully, quietly, a final exhale of breath that it takes me several minutes to realize won't be repeated. I grieve, silently and privately, for a good hour before rising from the ground next to him and informing the rest of the worlds that it's over. Kurosaki Ichigo is dead.

There are two funerals. One in the human world, holding his human body, for his friends and family, and one in Soul Society for the shinigami. His grave in the human world is simple, modest, next to his mother's. In contrast the one in Soul Society is large and placed right in the middle of Soukyoku hill, reminding everyone of the teenager that took all three of the realms by storm, who sacrificed himself time after time to save everyone else, and finally lost his life after ending the war and killing Aizen.

There will never be another like him, I know that. But we have to go on, hoping that the peace that he died for will last forever, and that when he is eventually reincarnated, he can live a normal life, as he always wanted.


End file.
